


Acting the Part

by TheScholarlyStrumpet (equipoise)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:39:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equipoise/pseuds/TheScholarlyStrumpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> “So, have you read the new script yet?”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>He glanced toward set and Leroy flashed five fingers. They were almost ready for him. “I haven’t had a chance actually…”</i></p><p>  <i>Belle shuffled one high heeled toe. “Yeah, um, me neither. Well, did you still want to rehearse tonight?”</i></p><p>  <i>Oh course he bloody did, he thought. He would use any excuse he could find simply to be in the same room with her with five fucking minutes.  What he actually said aloud was: “Don’t see why not. Call it a dry run, yeah?”</i></p><p>  <i>She beamed at him and his heart clenched. If this job was to be the death of him, he could think of no better way to go. She was called away to makeup and he tried not to make it obvious that he was watching her walk away. Those legs ought to be a felony. </i></p><p>Rumbelle Actors!AU. Pure fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acting the Part

Richard Gold was on his third cup of tea that day, grasping the styrofoam with both hands to keep them warm. He watched as the cameramen adjusted the angles on Emma. The young blonde was laughing at something the director, Leroy, had said. There was a tap on his shoulder, followed by a familiar Australian lilt.

“Keeping warm?”

Rick turned to meet the beautiful blue eyes of his newest costar “Hey, Belle.” The corners of his mouth lifted automatically in her presence. Everyone else on set knew he could be a grumpy, solitary bastard when he wished. Somehow, Belle had broken through that façade within days of meeting him. She was a shaft of sunlight through the fog that had enclosed him for years. Not that he would have told her so.

“Hey.” She nodded toward his cup. “Tea or something stronger?”

He chuckled. “Don’t I wish. No, just tea. It’s shite tea but it’s fucking freezing out here.”

She raised one perfectly shaped brow and smirked. “Well, at least you get trousers. Not all of us are so lucky.”

He glanced almost involuntarily down at her shapely legs and immediately regretted the action. Pretty, young, untouchable Belle French had a smile like summer morning and a body built for sin. He had imagined those legs wrapped around him more times than he could say. He longed to feel them hold him in place as he buried himself in her sweet flesh. He cursed inwardly, hoping she wouldn’t notice the sudden heat in his cheeks. “I’d offer you mine but I don’t think wardrobe would be very happy with me running about in just my keks.” He laughed nervously.

What the bloody hell was he even saying?

Luckily Belle seemed to find this amusing and giggled, covering her mouth as her cheeks tinged pink. “So, is that the secret to getting into your trousers, Rick?”

He gaped, wordlessly. Oh dear God, she was going to kill him. He’d signed a three season contract just before Belle joined the cast as his flirtatious sidekick. He was in this for at least the next three years, if ratings kept up. Belle was meant to be in for the long haul, too. And she was absolutely going to kill him before the year was up. 

Belle’s cheeks were very rosy, now and he realized his silence must have embarrassed her. She cleared her throat. “So, have you read the new script yet?”

He glanced toward set and Leroy flashed five fingers. They were almost ready for him. “I haven’t had a chance actually…”

Belle shuffled one high heel clad toe. “Yeah, um, me neither. Well, did you still want to rehearse tonight?”

Oh course he bloody did, he thought. He would use any excuse he could find simply to be in the same room with her with five fucking minutes.  What he actually said aloud was: “Don’t see why not. Call it a dry run, yeah?”

She beamed at him and his heart clenched. If this job was to be the death of him, he could think of no better way to go. She was called away to makeup and he tried not to make it obvious that he was watching her walk away. Those legs ought to be a felony.

***

After they had finished filming for the day, Rick retired to his trailer. He should have been exhausted; he and Emma had spent half the afternoon filming a fight scene. Yet the knowledge that Belle French would soon be tripping to his door set his pulse to racing and banished any thoughts of rest.

He had just begun flipping through the script when there was a soft knock on his trailer door. She shed her coat upon entering and he was a little disappointed to see that she had changed the tiny skirt for a pair of jeans. She settled on the folded up sofa-bed, her script balanced on her knees.

“Leroy told me the table read isn’t until Monday but I was hoping we could just go through a little character development, if you don’t mind. I’m not sure I’ve got an exact grasp on Lacey’s relationship to Detective Rumford. Leroy said this script has some important plot points for us... I mean, for them.”

Something glowed warm inside Rick’s chest at how comfortable Belle seemed in his space. They had started rehearsing together a few weeks ago, once it became clear that their characters were meant to develop a significant relationship. Seeing as he was nearly twice her age, he had assumed he would be a father figure to the impetuous character of “Lacey.” Yet as filming continued, the writers seemed to be taking it in an unexpected direction. Lacey flirted shamelessly with his character – a brilliant, but often curmudgeonly detective. The detective seemed unsettled by Lacey’s attentions, but kept ending up in situations that forced them to work together.

Two weeks ago, they had been trapped in a linen closet together for nearly half of an episode. Rick’s flustered reaction had had very little to do with his acting prowess. His back had hurt for days from the effort to keep some space between their lower bodies. He was no teenager, spring-loaded to instant tumescence, but six hours pressed against the object of his deepest hidden fantasies would have tried even his iron will. Pushing away the memory, Rick sat beside her.

Twenty minutes into the read through, Belle stopped abruptly, her eyes going wide. She looked up at Rick and he tried to pretend he hadn’t just been picturing himself tracing the curve of her neck with his tongue.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“It’s… well, um, look.” Belle edged closer,  pointing at the bottom of the page he had forgotten he was holding. “There’s a kiss.”

Rick’s breath caught in his throat. His mind had gone very blank. On the one hand, Belle would be kissing him. On the other hand, BELLE WOULD BE KISSING HIM.

Though he didn’t often play romantic leads, he had kissed dozens of pretty actresses in his career. Some of them he had even kissed off-screen.

Cora had been the first to seek out his attentions on set, sometime after his wife had left him. She was alluring, charming, and talented. He had been instantly smitten, despite himself. They talked of running away together to a private island. Rick couldn’t afford the lifestyle Cora wanted, in those days, but he had tried. He had taken her to premieres and Hollywood parties, introduced her to all the right people. It was at one of those parties that she announced she would be spending the night with the host. A few years later, she was married to one of the most powerful producers in Hollywood. By the end of the decade, she owned three production companies.

The names and faces after Cora all bled together.  He wasn’t a household name but a career with the expanse he had enjoyed came with a certain amount of clout. There were plenty of so-called actresses who mistook his bed for a casting couch. Once they realized he would do nothing to further their careers, they covered up their naked ambition and fled. Over time he had tired of that game, finding it easier to isolate completely rather than risk another Cora Hart.

Belle French, however, had never made an untoward suggestion. She had never asked him for an introduction or given him her card to distribute among his friends in casting departments. In fact, in the months he had known her, Belle had never so much as asked for a favor. She was kind, considerate and laughed at his lame attempts at humor. They enjoyed stimulating conversation over scripts and her latest book obsessions. She was quite the avid reader, with a keen mind and a penchant for romantic anti-heroes.

And he wanted her.

Oh God, how he wanted her.

But, he was terrified of ruining the tentative friendship they had formed by allowing her to see how weak he was in his desire. How on earth he was going to survive kissing her, he didn’t know. There was no way around it. It was in the script. If he asked the writers to strike it out, he’d have to explain why.  He didn’t think ‘my co-star is inhumanly delectable and  don't think I can act with a hard-on’ would be good enough reasoning.

So, he blinked stupidly and repeated her last words. “A kiss.”

Belle pressed her lips together and nodded. “Should we… practice it?” Her voice was barely above a whisper and Rick suddenly noticed that their knees were touching. He wasn’t quite sure when that had happened.

He hesitated, trying to quell the syncopated leaps and gallops of his heart. “Leroy will probably want to block the scene.”

Why had he said that? What kind of idiot said things like that?

The corner of Belle’s mouth quirked upward. “I won’t tell him if you won’t. Besides, we don’t have to do the whole scene. But, I mean, it’s a new dynamic for us. For the characters. I feel like it might be awkward to just… walk on set unprepared.” Her eyes searched his.

His mouth was dry. She smelled like vanilla and honey. He wanted to drown in her. He wished he had thought to brush his teeth before she arrived. But how could he have known they would be so close? So close that he could see her pupils dilate as he leaned in…  

His eyes slipped closed at the first brush of her lips. He wanted her to take the lead, to know that he wouldn’t push past her comfort level. It was just a practice kiss, after all. Meaningless to her, he was sure.

Yes, they enjoyed one another’s company. Yes, they spent most of their off-set time together, lately. And yes, she always seemed to have a smile just for him. But he was convinced that she only saw him as a good friend. Friendship alone with a woman such as Belle had seemed against all odds. It was utterly impossible that she felt anything more.

Yet, as she lingered, pressing her soft mouth ardently to his, his certainty began to wane. When he felt the first touch of her tongue, his denial unraveled at lightning speed. As her mouth parted under his, he did not hesitate to press forward. Almost of their own accord, his arms reached out to pull her closer. To his shock – and delight – Belle did the same. She shifted her legs across his lap, bringing their bodies together. He stifled a moan of appreciation as her upper leg brushed against his growing hardness.

Her hands were stroking his back as his made a study of her thighs, hips, and waist. He paused at the hem of her jumper, running his fingertips around its edge. Belle pulled back, face flushed and lips swollen from his kisses. With one deft motion, she disposed of her jumper and the shirt underneath. Her bra was simple tan thing, dingy and obviously well-worn.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t think we’d be… I do own sexier lingerie.” She blushed furiously.

Rick planted a kiss just at the taped edge of one cup and then the other. He met her eyes solemnly. “This… is the sexiest lingerie I have ever seen.”

Belle giggled and covered her mouth with one hand. Her eyes not leaving his, she reached behind her back. The fabric fell away and Rick swallowed hard. She licked her lips and slowly leaned back against the arm of the sofa. “Your turn.”

He took a deep breath, his stomach flipping over. His hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Even as a young man he had been scrawny – slender, his agent called it. Hollywood had never been fooled by the semantics. It had mattered less over time. Taller, broader chested men played the hero, but Rick had never found heroes very interesting, anyway.  

Belle looked like an ingénue, but somehow she seemed to want him. If he was a religious man, he’d have winged a prayer skyward for that fact, alone. He only hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed with what she got.

If the hunger in her gaze was any indication, Rick may have been the luckiest bastard to ever live. Once he had disposed of his shirt and belt, Belle pushed her jeans down her slim hips. Her underwear (blue cotton) was as utilitarian as her bra had been and he couldn’t have cared less. He followed her cue, removing his own jeans, only a little self-conscious of his raging erection. Belle’s eyes raked eagerly over his body, turning his skin to gooseflesh in their wake.

Her lips were parted, her chest rising and falling heavily, as she met his gaze. “Make love to me?”

She did not have to ask twice.

He tasted every inch of her skin, that night. He coaxed her pleasure forth with his mouth and hands, leaving her panting for more. When he finally entered her, her legs entwined around his hips, holding him fast. The reality outshone the fantasy by miles. She was perfection made flesh. In that moment, Rick knew that heaven was real.

 


End file.
